


Massages and Musings

by Sinclaironfire



Series: Moments [1]
Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Balthazar Cavendish - Freeform, Balthazar doesn't know how to talk about feelings, Dakota is a good guy, Dakota is the best guy, Erotic Dreams, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Pining Cavendish, Still, Touch-Starved Cavendish, Vinnie Dakota - Freeform, have fun, i'm trash, kinda dirty but not really, milo murphy's law - Freeform, the smut is barely there, who am I kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:58:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11705397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinclaironfire/pseuds/Sinclaironfire
Summary: Balthazar finds himself pining for Dakota.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to the fandom and I'm utter trash. This piece was inspired by http://laneypenn.tumblr.com/ so all credit goes to him.

Smooth hands and nimble fingers caressed tired and tortured skin. Over his neck and rubbing his shoulders, skilled hands went to work.

“You should moisturize more,” said Dakota whose suave voice was tempered with amusement.

Cavendish buried his face deeper into his pillow. He never knew how Dakota convinced him to do this. It was indecent! It was breaking regulations! And it was everything that he wanted. What were regulations when Dakota was massaging him? Cavendish’s heart skipped a beat as Dakota pressed harder in all the right places. A moan escaped his lips.

“Feel good?” asked Dakota.

Cavendish couldn’t see but he knew that his partner was smiling. How was he to respond? If he said yes, it would give Dakota the satisfaction that he was right. If he said no, Dakota knew he would be lying and if he knew that he might be tempted to stop. Cavendish didn’t think he could bear it if Dakota stopped now.

“Yo, Balthy. You feelin’ okay?” He ran his finger up his spine.

Another moan, a desperate touch starved ‘give me more, give me more, more, more, more’ moan. He heard Dakota chuckle.

“You _do_ like it!” His voice was light and teasing. Dakota’s hands were everywhere, touching him everywhere. He made him feel like he was on fire. Lower and lower went Dakota’s hands. He knew just where to touch to send him moaning, groaning, into a maddening state. Cavendish never felt so alive and so vulnerable. Dakota massaged his lower back and then his hands moved even lower until he was groping his -

And then he woke up.

Balthazar Cavendish was in his sleep clothes, still in his bed, and the grasp he had on his pillow was constricting. Beat-red, Cavendish slowly released his pillow and gasped for air.

“Blasted dreams,” he mumbled into his much-abused pillow.

He could still feel Dakota’s touch on his skin. Cavendish moaned. Of all the people he had to be attracted to, it had to be bloody Dakota! Cavendish cursed into his pillow. Why Dakota? Of all the ruddy people in the world, both in the past, present, and future, he was attracted to a short, curly-haired, tracksuit wearing person! Dakota was laid back, Cavendish prided himself on being a man of action. Dakota wore a bloody tracksuit for missions, he dressed for success. Dakota bathed when it pleased him, he took two showers every morning. Dakota ate whatever the hell he wanted, he put his feet up on the table and on the dash, and made constant nut based jokes that were at best tasteless.

And yet, everything about the dolty snack-hound screamed an effortless and enviable cool attitude towards life.

Cavendish flipped over onto his back and stared into the darkness, wishing that it would swallow him whole. Why Dakota? Why him? Why? He sighed. It had to be some sort of cosmic joke, he was sure of it. Some greater power with nothing better to do thought it would be funny if his heart were set aflame by someone like Vinnie Dakota. It wasn’t fair.

What really wasn’t fair were the dreams. It’s not like he wanted them! But his subconscious saw fit to make his sleeping hours miserable. The dreams were always the same. Dakota would hover over him. His words were peppered with concerned phrases like,

“You feelin’ okay?”

“Why don’t you lie down?”

“I can take care of you if you want.”

Phantom touches from Dakota still lingered on every inch of his body. Cavendish could protest all he wanted to but somehow, Dakota would manage to have him lying half naked on his bed. Then came the touching. He was always touching, caressing, soothing every ache he had and then just as it was starting to get good, Cavendish would wake up.

Cavendish rubbed his face. He craned his neck to look at his watch. It was barely three. He turned over onto his side. He had to sleep and if there was a decent bone in that greater power’s body, it would allow him to sleep without any more interruptions.

 

* * *

 

 

When his alarm went off at seven, Cavendish had to resist every urge he had to not throw it against the wall. Sleep had brought him no relief. He felt worse than before. A terrible ache traveled through his body. Dragging himself out of bed, he made his way to the bathroom where he caught his reflection. Every flaw seemed to be magnified tenfold. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. His pallid skin made him appear ghost like and washed out, his eyes were puffy and watery, a wiry frame and a weak chin. To say nothing of his receding hairline. Cavendish scoffed.

“Who would ever want someone like you?” he asked his reflection.

Cavendish sat on the edge of the tub. He didn’t want to shower or get dress or do whatever pistachio related mission they had today. What was the point? That agent Murphy, a devious and nefarious mastermind, would surely thwart them again. However, a decision as serious as dereliction of duty was not to be made on a whim or on an empty stomach. Cavendish left his sleeping quarters and made his way to the kitchen.

The sunshine yellow walls with dazzling white trim hurt his eyes. Everything was too bright and cheerful. And speaking of cheerful, Dakota was already at the table. He was dressed in his red and orange tracksuit and was reading the comics section of the newspaper. Dakota was, surprisingly, a morning person.

“Gotta get up early if you want the good stuff,” he always said.

On the table, there was quite a spread. Eggs, hash browns, bacon, donuts…the kitchen smelled like the inside of a deep fryer. Cavendish wrinkled his nose in disgust as Dakota shoveled a powdered donut into his mouth. His partner looked up, did a small smile and wave, and upon swallowing the fatty food said, “Hey sleepyhead, grab a seat. I got us breakfast.”

Perhaps it was the grease, the sleepless nights, or Dakota being so damn pleasant but Cavendish had no desire to eat. He shook his head and shuffled over to the counter to start his tea only to find his kettle was missing.

“I already made you tea,” said Dakota helpfully.

Cavendish grumbled a ‘thank you’ before grabbing his mug and sat opposite of his partner. He avoided looking at him. His tea was warm, slightly bitter and earthy. It was just the thing he needed if he were to spend the day with Dakota.

“So we got our mission for today.”

Oh, joy. What would it be today? Protecting pistachios from llamas? Delivering them from point A to point B? Whatever it would be agent Murphy would be there and it would be a sound and devastating defeat.

“Hey, you feelin’ okay?” Dakota reached out to touch him. All at once, Cavendish could feel his hands groping him. He instinctively smacked Dakota’s hand away.

“Ow! What was that for?”

What was he to tell him? ‘Well, Dakota, if you must know, I’ve been having erotic dreams about you for the past few weeks and I find being in your presence to be completely unbearable.’ No. No, no, no, no. He couldn’t say that. With his luck, Dakota would think he was joking and laugh at him. He didn’t think he could take it if Dakota laughed at him. It would be too much to bear.

“I believe I’m coming down with a cold,” he excused himself. “Would hate for you to catch it.”

“Oh.”

Dakota seemed to believe it but it was difficult to tell what went on that fluffy head of his. Whatever he was thinking of, he seemed to be thinking quite hard about it. As though the next sentence out of his mouth depended on him thoroughly analyzing his statement.

“If you’re feeling bad,” Dakota said slowly, “I can handle the mission.”

“WHAT?” Cavendish yelped.

“If you’re feelin’ bad, I can handle the mission today. Why don’t you lie down?”

Cavendish stood up far too fast and his head started to spin. Everything went blurry. He grasped the back of his chair for support and said as forcefully as he could, “I am in perfect condition for our mission.”

Dakota wasn’t convinced. “I can take care of you if you want,” he offered.

“No!” Cavendish shook his head and stood his ground. “No, that will not be necessary, not necessary at all! I will get ready post-haste and we shall continue on, understood?”

“Uh, yeah sure, whatever you say.”

Cavendish allowed himself a graceful retreat from the kitchen table. He returned to his peacefully dark and warm room and all but collapsed onto his bed. He sighed into his pillow. How was it that Dakota knew what to say, even unintentionally, to get his heart racing was beyond him. Was he to be tortured during the day now? He didn’t know how he was to carry on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthazar still wants Dakota.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still trash.

Dakota sat at the kitchen table and thoughtfully munched on a donut. Cavendish was acting strange – stranger than normal strange. It didn’t bug him too much. He figured that Cavendish was up in arms about that Murphy kid. Dakota shook his head thinking about the sweater vest kid. He didn’t know what but that kid was like bad luck magnet. It had to be a coincidence or a freak accident that the kid caused chaos in his wake but Cavendish’s reaction was too out of it for it to be about the Murphy kid.

“Must be one hell of a bug,” he mused

Dakota hoped that he hadn’t caught it. Being sick was no fun. When he got sick, he parked himself near the toilet for a barf – a – thon. He could never keep anything down. Dakota put his donut down. His stomach was turning just thinking about it. Dakota went back to his newspaper comics to take his mind off it.

 

* * *

 

 

After every comic was read and the coffee was gone, Dakota was still waiting for Cavendish to show up. Dakota looked at the clock on the kitchen wall above the sink. It was already nine. Dakota sighed and rolled his eyes. He knew that Cavendish liked long showers but this was ridiculous and unlike him. Cavendish might not have been a morning person like he was but between the two of him, he was more focused on missions.

Dakota rose from his seat and went to his partner’s bedroom. He knocked several times and said, “Hey, Cavendish. We going or what?”

There was no answer. Dakota waited outside of Cavendish’s door for a few minutes more before finally deciding to enter. “Hey, Cavendish. What’s the holdup?” The room was dark and when his eyes adjusted, he saw his partner. The older man was on his bed. He didn’t stir.

“Cav?” Dakota whispered. He crept over to him, careful not to make a sound. “Cav?”

Cavendish’s chest rose up and down at a soothing pace. Dakota reached out and pressed his hand against Cavendish’s forehead. He was warm.

_A fever_ , Dakota realized, _so that’s what’s got his boxers in a bunch._

Dakota paused and thought of his options. A sick partner wasn’t a great partner. And if that Milo kid was going to show up, as he somehow inexplicably did, Dakota could see him and Cavendish, running, chasing, and just overall exerting themselves. That wasn’t the best for a fever.

Actually, what was best for a fever? Feed a fever, starve a cold? No, wait, why would he want to feed a fever. That sounded like the opposite of what to do. But it didn’t make any sense to feed a cold either. Dakota frowned. Folk sayings were not his forte. But what was his forte was time-travel and missions. And missions waited for no man.

Cavendish was just going to have to sit this one out.

 

* * *

 

Cavendish wasn’t on his stomach anymore and Dakota was massaging him either. Dakota was now thrusting hard and fast and Cavendish was on the receiving end. He couldn’t remember how it started. It was a complete blur. There was touching, kissing (Good Heavens could Dakota kiss!), some groping that turned into fondling and before he knew it, his clothes were gone and Dakota was on top of him. Between kisses and thrusts, Dakota whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

“You’re beautiful…I love you…I’ve wanted this so bad…you’re gorgeous…”

It was bizarre to hear Dakota say that. Beautiful? Gorgeous? Want this so bad? He thought that everything he felt was one-sided. He didn’t feel beautiful or gorgeous but Dakota made him feel like Adonis. It was a shame that he couldn’t say anything in return. His mind was clouded and his thoughts were hazy. He still couldn’t believe that he and Dakota were –

A final thrust and Cavendish saw stars.  When he could focus again, Dakota wasn’t on top of him anymore. In fact, Dakota was standing right over him.

“Cavendish?”

It was like his brain blew a fuse. He struggled to speak. Forming the most basic sentences was beyond him.

“It’s me, Balthy,” Dakota said softly. “How you feeling? You were moaning pretty loud.”

Cavendish went bright red. “I…I….” His mouth was dry. His tongue tied itself into knots. Here it was, the abject humiliation of having a wet dream about his partner. If only he could be struck by lightning or suffer a fatal heart attack to save him from the fallout.

“Hold on, I’ll get you a glass of water.” Dakota went into the bathroom. As Cavendish heard the water rushing, he imagined only briefly, of drowning to spare him from saying anything at all to Dakota.

“Here ya go.”

Somehow, Cavendish managed to down the water. Dakota kept watching him. “So how you feeling?”

Fearing the worst, Cavendish settled for shrugging. He would have felt better if he could stay a hundred feet or more away from Dakota.

“That’s okay. So, listen about the mission.”

Cavendish’s heart raced and for once it wasn’t because of Dakota.

“The mission!” Cavendish gasped. Fear coursed through him. “I’ll get dressed!” he said immediately.

“Nah, it’s okay.” Dakota shrugged. “Already took care of it.”

“What?”

“The mission,” Dakota repeated. “Already done.”

“Wha…” Cavendish suddenly felt very ill.

“Whoa!” Dakota placed a hand on his back. An involuntary shiver went down Cavendish’s spine. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’re gonna barf.” Dakota looked a little ill at the thought of throw up.

“Fine…” Cavendish mumbled. “I’m fine…”

“Huh, maybe you should rest?”

“No, my mission report…dereliction of duty…” he struggled to say.

“Dude, relax. Block’s already gotten both of our mission reports. I don’t think he’ll notice that I wrote yours.”

Cavendish rubbed his face. Good Heavens. He had never missed a mission before. “Thank you, Dakota.”

“No problem. Hey, you want some dinner? I could grab you some tomato soup from the diner down the street?”

“What?”

“Tomato soup. It’s like a tomato but –“

“No, no. Y-You said dinner. Wha-What time is it?”

Dakota shrugged. “I dunno like six-something? You wanna eat?”

He nodded slowly but did not lie back down until Dakota left. Oh, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t live like this. This was a special kind of hell for him. Something had to give and at this rate, it was going to be his sanity.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthazar and Dakota have a heart to heart talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still trash.

 

Over the next few weeks, an unbearable tension followed Dakota and Cavendish’s partnership. For Dakota, the tension felt personal. Cavendish didn’t look at him anymore. He actively avoided eye contact, communication, even touching him. It left him feeling less. When he looked at other agents, it was constant contact. Other agents enjoyed being in their partner’s company.

Cavendish was barely tolerating him at this point.

Sure, they had their ups and downs but Dakota liked to think that on a basic level, they understood each other. However, that was before yesterday. They had just come home to their apartment. Instead of writing his mission report, Dakota went to grab a snack. When he returned, Cavendish was just finishing up his report and went straight to his bedroom, saying that he had a headache was not to be disturbed.

As Dakota settled in to write his own report, he realized that his notes on the mission were lacking. He figured it didn’t matter one way or the other about how he wrote that a pistachio warehouse exploded from a runaway tugboat but Block liked it when reports were similar. So what was the harm if he looked at Cavendish’s notes?

After all, Cavendish didn’t want to be bothered and something told him that asking the older man for help would devolve into a fight. Dakota helped himself to Cavendish’s notes and that’s when he saw them. He didn’t mean to see it but there was no denying the puce colored papers on Cavendish’s desk.

Partner replacement.

It was a punch to the gut for Dakota. Was he the best partner around? No. But was he the worst? Also no. But those papers…those ugly puce papers. It made him feel sick.

 

* * *

 

 

Later that evening, Cavendish was in a good mood but he still refused to look at Dakota. It was like he didn’t exist. Dakota sat at the kitchen table and just as Cavendish was about to retreat to his room for dinner, Dakota couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know.

“Is it me?” he asked, standing up.

Cavendish turned around, perplexed at Dakota’s question. “Pardon?”

“I saw the papers. What is it? What did I do?”

Cavendish bristled at his questions. “You saw –“

“Yeah, partner replacement,” answered Dakota. “So? Is it me?”

Whatever confidence Cavendish had, it disappeared in an instant. “N-No, yes. I’m not…I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure? You’re replacing me!”

“No, I’m replacing me!” shouted Cavendish, startling Dakota. The older man sighed and sat down. “You’re not the problem, it’s me. I’m the ruddy problem. It’s me. I can’t…I can’t work with you anymore.”

“Why? Cause of our losing streak? I tell ya, it’s bad luck or freak accidents. It’ll turn around.”

His partner sighed. “No. No, no, Dakota it isn’t that. It’s a matter of professionalism and…you wouldn’t understand.” At once, Cavendish seemed older than he really was. Whatever the other man was carrying around on his shoulders had taken away his vitality.

“I could understand if you told me,” said Dakota softly. “Come on Balthy, what’s got you so hot and bothered?”

Cavendish looked up and stony-faced said to his partner, “Well, Dakota, if you must know, I’ve been having erotic dreams about you for the past few weeks and I find being in your presence to be completely unbearable.”

Dakota stared at Cavendish. The silence between the two was intolerable. Finally, it was Dakota who broke it.

“Wait, seriously?”

Cavendish, bright red, nodded bravely. Dakota sighed and sat down. This was not what he expected. It wasn’t even close. Cavendish watched him closely. He was waiting for the moment when Dakota exploded. Would he shout? Would he admonish him? Cavendish didn’t care. It was out there now.  

“Was I good?”

“Dakota!” Cavendish scolded.

“What? I just want to know if Dream Me was as good as I think I am.”

Cavendish floundered. “I…well…that is to say um…”

“Was I that bad in bed?” Dakota asked, wounded by his dream self’s lack of physical prowess

“No, Dakota you were…you were….” How was he to describe it? This wasn’t the reaction he thought he was going to get from his partner. “You were bloody fantastic.”

“Really?” Dakota asked, smiling and looking pleased with himself. “I was that good?”

“Oh, you were brilliant. The best kisser. You were a very generous lover and –“Cavendish involuntarily moaned at the memory of Dakota’s marvelous work with his hands.  “- you were simply the best.”

“Nice.”

“As nice as it may be, I’m afraid that I can’t work with you anymore. It wouldn't be professional. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a glowing recommendation. You’ll get someone better.”

“Well, what if I don’t want someone better? What if I want you?”

Cavendish swallowed hard. “Pardon?”

“What. If. I. Want. You.” Dakota repeated.

The older man stared blankly back at him. A whirlwind of thoughts consumed Cavendish’s mind. Dakota wanted him? Him? It didn’t make any sense. At a loss, Cavendish fell back on what he knew best: Time Travel rules and regulations.

“But regulations state –“

Dakota rolled his eyes, “Please, you don’t think Brick isn’t trying to get with Savanna? Almost every partner sleeps with the other.”

“I-I don’t….I don’t know.” This was happening too fast for him to be anywhere near comfortable with.

“What? I thought you wanted the D?” He grinned cheekily. “Get it? The D? Cause it’s the letter of my last name but also-“

“Dakota!” Cavendish was now as red as a tomato.

His partner was grinning from ear to ear. “Oh! So you do get it. Look, you want me and believe it or not but I want you. So let’s sleep together.”

“No!” Cavendish yelped. “I-I can’t…”

“Why not? What’s the problem?”

“This is happening too fast for me, Dakota. I can’t, I do but I don’t want to jump into bed with you like a tramp.”

Dakota snorted. “If anyone is the tramp here, it’s me, Cav but okay, let’s take it slow. What are you comfortable with?”

“Comfortable?” Cavendish asked.

“I’m pretty flexible. There isn’t a lot of kinks that can put me in a twist. So what do you want to start with?

“I…I…well um…” He tried to come up with something, anything to say but his brain went blank. How Dakota could approach sex so casually was startling. “Touching?” he finally offered.

“Like massage touching or hand-job touching?” Dakota asked, trying to discern his options.

“Massage,” settled Cavendish.

“That’s great!” he answered smiling. “I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“I know, Dakota,” said Cavendish faintly, feeling a massive relief off his shoulders. “I know…”


End file.
